Veyle's voice cracked as he whispered to himself, a hoarse rasp that barely carried over the silence.
"This is hell… it hurts so much… no matter how many times I try… it doesn't work… I've done this fifty times already…"
Pain throbbed through his chest, clawing at his ribs. His hands shook. His boots clung to the cobblestones like they were fused to the ground. The city stretched before him, every detail sharp and cruel—Halrun, the loops, the fire, the screams. Every nightmare pressed against him, unrelenting, crushing.
He wanted to move. He wanted to run. But he couldn't.
Seren stood beside him, calm. Her hands moved in deliberate signs, slow, precise—but Veyle barely registered them. His mind swam in panic, drowning in memory and pain.
A low rumble began beneath his feet.
This was hell, veyles reality.
The rumble grew, low and hungry, vibrating through the cobblestones, shaking his boots. Panic clawed its way through him.
Veyle's chest tightened. His mind snapped. He had waited too long. He had hesitated.
"Move… damn it!" he rasped, voice broken. Without thinking, he shoved Seren aside, his hands trembling violently.
He pressed his palms to his ears, trying to block out the roar building behind him. The world seemed to stretch and warp. Pain lanced through his skull, a brutal high-pitched scream that shattered his thoughts. He opened his mouth, wanting to scream, to warn, to curse—but all that came out was a strangled, wet rasp. He squeezed his eyes shut, bracing against the sound, the fire, the coming destruction.
And then, instinct took over.
He lunged for Seren, grabbing her arm, pulling her close. He didn't speak. Couldn't. There was no time. Every step forward was agony, every motion a fight against the ringing in his ears and the heat creeping from the city behind them.
Smoke stung their lungs, ash coated their skin. The city itself seemed alive, twisting, burning, collapsing in anticipation of the devastation.
Veyle ran. Seren's hands shot out instinctively, signing rapidly:
"Careful! Watch your step! Don't—"
He didn't respond. He didn't need to. He held her tight, following her signs, every twitch of her fingers guiding him through the chaos.
Cobblestones cracked underfoot. Flames leapt from buildings. The heat pressed against their backs like a living thing.
Veyle didn't look back. He couldn't.
They barreled into the city streets, weaving through debris, dodging falling timbers, twisting around flames. His heart pounded, every beat echoing in his ruptured ears. Every instinct screamed that they might not survive this—but he would try.
And then—they collided.
Halrun. Standing in their path like a nightmare sculpted from shadow and steel. His eyes were empty, unyielding, and his blade sang as it swung.
Veyle barely reacted. Pain exploded as steel bit into his arm. He screamed, the world tilting as blood sprayed. His fingers went numb. The arm was gone, severed cleanly, leaving fire and agony in its wake. He stumbled, clutching the stump, vision swimming with red.
Seren's hands moved frantically, signing faster than ever, desperate. "Veyle! Behind you! Don't—"
Before he could process the warning, a sudden clang ripped through the chaos. Shackles fell somewhere nearby—metal striking stone, vibrating through the frozen air. Time shivered and stuttered.
The laughter came next. A low, rolling sound, impossibly deep, crawling through his bones. It grew louder, higher, weaving through the frozen city, the burning streets, and the smoke-stained sky.
And then he saw it.
The Laughing God, impossibly tall, impossibly calm, stepped into the frozen scene. A grin stretched impossibly wide across a face that shouldn't exist, eyes glinting with madness and mirth. The world paused around it—fire hung in the air, cobblestones frozen mid-shatter, Halrun's blade suspended in motion.
It tilted its head toward Veyle. Every instinct in him screamed to run, to fight, to beg—but the laughter drowned them all. Time itself seemed to bend, waiting for its next move.
And in that silence, in that frozen hell, Veyle understood something terrible
The Laughing God's grin faltered, just slightly—an almost imperceptible twitch of irritation. He raised one elongated hand, fingers snapping in the frozen air.
"Really… really?" His voice carried a sharp edge now, cutting through the suspended chaos. "Are you still standing there, staring? I don't have all day, you know."
Veyle's lungs burned. His chest ached. He wanted to speak, to beg, to do something, but the words stuck in his throat. The god's eyes—black voids with pinpricks of twisted light—bored into him, unrelenting, impatient.
"Come on, come on!" the god hissed, voice rising like a whip crack. "I'm not here to babysit! Move! Act! Or at least try! Don't just stand there like a damned statue while the world burns around you!"
Time itself still hovered, frozen mid-motion, but Veyle felt the pressure building—the sensation of the god's impatience pressing against his skull like a physical weight.
The Laughing God leaned closer, fingers twitching as if he could reach inside Veyle and shake the hesitation from his soul.
"I hate waiting," he said, voice venomous now, the amusement gone, replaced by sharp, sizzling annoyance. "Do something! Do anything! Or I'll start getting… irritated."
The words sent a shiver down Veyle's spine. Even in a world suspended in motion, even with Halrun frozen mid-attack, the god's frustration radiated like a tangible force.
Veyle's heart thudded. His legs trembled, but some primal part of him understood: hesitation was worse than death here.
The god's grin returned, sharper, almost predatory. "Hurry it up, Veyle. I don't like to repeat myself."
The Laughing God crouched slightly, leaning forward, his grin impossibly wide. Shadows stretched across the frozen city, smoke suspended midair, Halrun's blade paused in motion.
"You're taking forever, Veyle," he said, voice sharp with impatience. "Fine… a hint. But don't think I'm being generous."
He tapped one finger against his chin. "You keep looking for answers in the rubble, in the fire, in what you've lost… but you've been holding it all along."
His eyes glinted, a starry swirl of amusement and annoyance.
"Think of what's by your side, the one who never falters when you do. What they see, what they do… that's your key. Don't overthink it. But hurry! Snails annoy me."
He straightened, arms folding elegantly. Time still clung to the frozen scene. "Act, Veyle. Or drag your heels and I'll start adding new… complications And dont worry you'll be allowed to breath as you leave unlike last time."
Veyle's chest heaved. The world hung suspended, fire frozen mid-leap, Halrun's blade suspended in arc, ash caught in the air like crystals. The god's voice sliced through everything, impatient and mocking.
He blinked. Holding it all along… what does that even mean?
Seren. His mind snapped to her. The calm in the storm. The hands that signed without pause. The presence that anchored him when everything else threatened to tear him apart. Her.
The Laughing God's grin widened again, though now laced with irritation. "Yes, that one! Stop staring at the broken city like a fool and use what you already have! Do you want me to slow down time for you again so you can think about it?"
Veyle's eyes flicked to Seren, panicked but desperate. This… this is the key. She's the key.
The god leaned back, tilting his head as though watching a child fumble with a puzzle. "Time's not on your side, Veyle. Hurry. And remember—if you fail, it won't just be your misery I enjoy. Do you understand?"
Veyle clenched his teeth. "Yeah yeha, shut up you god."
The god's fingers twitched, snapping the frozen air. "Now. Move. Or I'll start improvising i aint the only one this entertainment is for."
Time snapped back into motion.
The frozen air shattered like glass. Fire roared upward, consuming the streets. Halrun's blade completed its arc, slicing through Veyle's chest with merciless precision.
Pain, sharper than any before, lanced through him. He gasped, a strangled, wet sound, and the world tilted violently.
Seren's hands flailed, signing desperately—but it was too late.
His legs gave out. Cobblestones erupted beneath him as he crumpled to the ground, blood soaking the ash and fire.
The Laughing God leaned down, eyes narrowing in mild annoyance, as if Veyle's failure were almost expected.
"Really," he murmured, voice dripping with mock patience. "Did you think a hint would save you? How… adorable."
He straightened, snapping his fingers.
Veyle's vision blurred. Pain, fire, and ash swirled into nothing. Every sound was sucked into silence.
Then… nothing.
The loop reset, familiar yet cruel.
Veyle gasped as he found himself back at the beginning, the fireless streets of the city stretching before him, the distant echoes of screams muted for now.
His hands shook. His chest ached with memory that shouldn't exist, and his boots clung to the cobblestones as if he'd never moved.
And somewhere above him, faint and taunting, the laughter of the god echoed:
"Hurry it up next time… or we'll get really bored."